Paranormal (Supernatural Spin-Off)
by NinjaGirlFiction
Summary: Alexandria is a born and raised Hunter with a secret. Follow her journey as she travels the country, solving paranormal mysteries with her trusty sidekick (Spencer the Labrador) and runs into old friends (the 'gang') and new (an ex-blood junkie, a dropout with 6 bucks to his name, and a fallen angel.) Saving people, hunting things- it's not just the Winchester Family Business.
1. Episode 1: Blood Moon Rising

"Okay, Spencer, you'll have to wait here," I pat my Labrador's head. He gives a whimpering bark in return, not too happy with my decision, "I know, I know. But I'll get more attention if I bring you along. Trust me, I'm not a fan of this either." He harrumphs, falling to the ground. I tie his leash to the pole, giving him a quick scratch under his golden chin before walking down the block to the police station.

Burbank, Ohio is a small town with twenty or so people at best. That means that everyone knows everyone. And because I'm an outsider, I'll be getting a lot of weird looks. Fine by me, I'm used to it. And know just what to do to fit in. I hold my head high and walk down the street with supreme confidence.

Completely opposite to the town, the Police station is severely updated. They've even got a morgue; the main reason for my visit. I make sure my 'visitor's' pass is clearly visible before pulling out my grab-and-go key card. If Kenneth is as much of a genius as he makes himself out to be, then this key card should get me past virtually any door. He's still working his way into the Pentagon's system, but we don't really need to go there, so there's not much hurry.

Sure enough, the key card works. Great for me. Less lying I'll have to do. Once I'm past the main doors, no one gives me a second look. Not even as I board the elevator and ride it down to the morgue. These doors need a separate key card. For anyone else, that is. I walk in and the stench is rancid. Decaying bodies are probably the only American made thing that skips small, medium, and large going straight for ultra stank.

"Phew," I swipe the air. I survey the four autopsy tables, finding all but one empty. It will be my lucky day if it happens to have the body I'm looking for. I walk over, peeling back the tarp, finding the winning lottery ticket, "Gross."

A middle-aged man with a balding head and covered in tattoos comes with yet another striking feature; a large, circular gash in his neck surrounded by dried blood. The coroner must not have cleaned this guy yet. Lucky me. I look deep at the cut, finding some dirt is caked there as well. I peel the tarp back over more so I can see his fingernails. Sure enough, dirt and wood dustings. That matches the fact that he was found in the woods. The report said he'd been found on trail twenty-seven - not far from where all the others were found dead. If he's got this stuff caked under his nails, then the best bet would suggest he was killed out there too. Not dumped like the papers would suggest.

I check my surroundings before quickly pulling out my EMF reader. It never hurts to be too careful. I should know better than anyone because the one time I didn't check, a ghost popped out of the body going 'full metal mental' on me. I'm just glad I'd smuggled in my salt gun. Just imagine how I explained myself out of that one.

Third base; barely a signal. Just one more thing and I'll have myself a home run. I take a quick measurement of the wound and sure enough, it's a vamp bite. Depth, width, and goriness all match. Some of my friends say I go overboard when it comes to double-checking, but because of the fact that I work alone and have had my share of surprises, I tend to ignore them. Or, more likely, tell them to blow it out their rear. They can get back to me when they've filled two Hunter Journals and lived to tell about it.

I hear the ding of the elevator as someone is coming down. Quickly, I put my supplies away and recover the corpse, taking a seat in a swivel chair just as three men walk in; two in suits and one in a lab coat.

"Um, hello," the older suit says gruffly. This guy is a sight to say the least. Tall; probably around six feet. Nothing more, though. He's rugged and strong looking; attributes of an experienced man. His green eyes match mine physically but hide deep secrets. His hair is my color, too, - brown - and he styles it in a way that would suggest he doesn't. But my mom was a hairdresser in her spare time, so I know enough about that.

"Hi," I swivel slightly. Saying the other suit is a giant would be an understatement. He's taller than his partner and looks nice enough, but I know from experience not to judge a book by its cover. His hair is amazing though. I don't know many guys who wear it long.

All three look surprised to see me, so I quickly jump up and rush to the lab coat as though seeing him for the first time, "Dave! Great to see you again."

"Um…do I know you?" the man looks at me suspiciously.

I roll my eyes, "Um, yeah. You met me and my mom at the conference last spring?" I looked into the guy's background seeing as how he'd be the guy I'd most likely run into, "Remember?" I put my hand to my mouth and pretend to get drunk.

He nods fast, glancing at the two men who must be agents, "Um, yes. I remember now. Sarah?"

"Yeah," I smile wide, lying through my teeth. That is so not my name. Like seriously? Do I look like a Sarah? I give him a light punch to the shoulder, "See? I knew you'd remember me."

"Well, uh, what are you doing here?" he asks, walking towards the corpse.

I shrug, taking a seat back in the swivel chair, "Just waiting for mom. It's bring your kid to work day." I spin around in it.

"Your mom works here?" he asks.

I shake my head, laughing as my brain spins, "Um, no," I quickly ramble off the lie I'd been practicing, "She's visiting to get your new research on biochemical what's it who's it's. You did get the e-mail right? She asked me to send it, but I'm not sure I got the right address. All the same, I'm sure you've got a copy, smart guy like you. She's in the bathroom and told me to wait here. Is there a water fountain?"

"Um…what?" he asks.

I shrug, "Never mind. I'll find one. Be back in a minute. And in case you're gone before I leave," I walk up to the tall detective, "It was nice meeting you…"

"I'm Detective Kilmister, and this is Detective Smith," the tall one says, taking my hand to shake it.

I grin, "Any relation to Lemmy Kilmister?"

He raises an eyebrow, "You know Lemmy?"

"Motorhead," I shrug, "Duh."

"No relation," the older one insists.

"Kay," I shrug, turning away. I don't look back. I skip into the hall and press the button to go up a level. I'm done here anyway.

…

Maxwell Needlemyer. He was the latest victim in the recent string of strange murders. This is such a small town, he even made the cover of their newspaper. I'm surprised. I've seen a lot of kids running around, so a gory pic on the front page is the last thing I'd expect. Then again, kids don't really read newspapers anymore. Just one more thing that makes me abnormal.

Spencer lies over my lap, with my computer being held up by his back. So when the dog decides to huff, my computer jerks away from my fingers, "What's up?" He gives me the look. The one I know that means he's bored, "I'd let you read, but you still don't know a 'b' from a 'd'." He growls, "Don't use that tone with me. You're the one who decided to skip training and go to the park." He sighs, putting his head back down.

I sigh myself, clicking on another link. The first thing I look up is the victim files. Dealing with vampires, it's not that hard to realize that they're all frequent B- donors. It makes sense seeing as how it's typically a vamp's favorite. I enter the blood bank's system and get two separate lists; one of the people who are B- donors and one of everyone who has access to the list without hacking. Like I'm doing.

Spencer raises his head as the printer goes off. He turns to me with another look I know too well. I roll my eyes, "Hey if you've got a better way to get information than hacking, I'd love to hear it. But until then, I'll only break the law when it's necessary. Deal?" He huffs, "I don't see why you're being so stubborn about it. It's not like you're doing anything wrong." His head rolls around - his way of rolling his eyes - before collapsing again, "Hey, do me a favor? Fetch?"

He grudgingly gets up - after I give him a small nudge - and jumps off the bed. Biting down on the corner of the paper, he brings it back, "Thanks." With all of the reports of people looking at files when they're not supposed to, security has been amped up. Meaning there are only four names on the list of people who have access. I'll have to work my way down, but I figure my two best bets are a young woman in her late twenties and a lab assistant in his late forties. I ruled out the others because one is in a wheelchair and the other is blind. But who really knows?

"Okay," I close my computer, "We've got two suspects. We can start in the morning. Sound good?" He growls at me, "What?" Doing his head rolling thing - I'm pretty sure he picked up this attitude from me, but I'd never admit it - he retrieves my bag. He jumps on the bed, placing it down beside me.

I roll my eyes, "I'm good. We can go to bed." He growls again, "You're so bossy, you know that?" He nudges my arm and I huff, "Alright, alright." I take out my pill bottle, and down them without water, "Happy?" He takes the bag and drops it on the floor beside us as I put the computer on the nightstand.

Spencer always waits until I'm comfy before getting situated himself. After I've moved around a lot he huffs, "Okay, fine." I turn into my most used position and settle in. Just as he's about to get on top, I spring up - startling him, "Oops. I almost forgot." I climb out of bed and go for my gun bag, "Which do you think? The regular pistol? Or the stake pistol? I mean, we are hunting vampires."

He growls at me and I know that he doesn't want me sleeping with either under my pillow. I growl right back and pick the stake one. I climb back in, quick to find my spot, and Spencer climbs on top. The pressure he puts on me makes me feel safe and it's easier to fall asleep. I sigh happily, turning out the lights.

…

I decide to check the lady's house first. Miss Margaret Perigee. Her house is large and fancy. Typical of a tycoon. Not of a blood bank owner. I knock on the front door, taking a special look at the rosemary in her garden. Already I know this is probably a dead end. It's not a sure sign, but most vamps can't stand certain chemicals. One of which just so happens to be in rosemary.

Miss Perigee answers the door with a smile, "Well hello. And who might you be?"

"Hello, ma'am, I'm-" I stop the moment I see two familiar suits standing in the living room, "Sarah. I was wondering if Jimmy could come play?"

"I'm sorry, dear," she shakes her head, "I don't know a Jimmy." By this time, I've gotten the attention of the two men; Agent Kilmister and Agent Smith.

"He doesn't live here?" I ask, surprised to hide my nervousness. I glance behind her again, seeing the older one get up and look directly at me. He recognizes me.

"No, I'm sorry," she says, "Do you know Jimmy's last name? Maybe I know his parents?"

The taller one gives me a look of knowing. Something like he knows why I'm here. That's really not good. As the older one makes his way towards me, I make an excuse to leave. "Um, actually I don't," I apologize, "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. Have a nice day."

"You too dear," the woman says kindly, "I hope you find him."

"Thanks," I wave at her. I quickly make my way off her porch and down the road. When I hit the sidewalk, I do the one thing I never let myself do; I look back. Sure enough, standing in the window is Agent Kilmister. "Uh oh."

…

"Spencer, get your bag," I shout, rushing into the motel room. He'd been lying on my bed, watching the TV, but quickly shuts it off and hops down. He bites the strap of his shoulder bag, quickly jogging to the door. I gather my guns and such, pouring them into my duffle before slinging it on.

He grunts and I tell him what happened, "If they're real cops, then they'll figure where we are. And if they're not…well, let's just hope they're hunters."

He nods and trots out as I open the door for him. We rush to the end of the street, with me pulling my jacket on as I jog. Just as I see the bus turning the corner, I bend down to Spencer and help him with his bag. I also strap on his special collar and leash. The one that implies he's a service dog. The bus stops in front of us and the doors open. Spencer stands, walking forward and I follow him on. Just as the driver is about to tell us he can't be here, she sees his collar and stays quiet.

I walk to the back and huff, falling into the window seat. Spencer jumps into the one next to me and sits down. He's not a fan of the collar but cooperates. The alternative is walking, and I know he won't want to do that.

"Puppy," a child across the isle squeals. As the little girl reaches over to pet him, I glance her way. She smiles, asking, "Can I pet him?"

"Yeah," I smile, "He's friendly."

The little girl squeals in joy. Just as she's about to touch him, her mother quickly pulls the girl's hand back, "I'm so sorry. She doesn't understand."

"It's alright," I smile, "I told her she could. You'd be okay, right Spencer?"

His tongue falls out as he smiles at them. The woman is cautious but lets her daughter pet him. The little girl pats his head and scratches his chin - Spencer loving every second of it - as I turn to the window. I find myself reaching over, resting my hand on Spencer's short fur. I gently rub my thumb back and forth as I look out the window. Various people zoom by. Some are couples that kiss. Some are kids that run around playing; their parents a few feet away.

Spencer nudges my shoulder and I look over. The little girl is still petting him, but his attention is on me. Knowing what he's thinking, I use my hands to sign; "Just getting used to being alone again." He leans over to lick my face as I grimace. I sign, "I know, I know. You're here for me," I reach over to give him a hug, "You're all I need."

…

Spencer and I get off the bus four stops out. The one for the school. Whenever Mr. Jingle - the janitor with keys to everywhere - isn't working at the blood bank, he cleans up the high school. As the bus rolls out of sight, I slip on my sunglasses. I know it might be rude or insensitive to pretend to be blind, but I've been it before so I'm sure it's fine. Plus, I bothered enough to learn sign language and Braille; that's more than I can say for most fakers.

I hold onto Spencer's leash as he 'leads' me to the back of the school building. Once we're standing in front of the door, I tap it. No one is there, but it's better safe than sorry. I say to Spencer, "Who's there?" When he tugs on the leash to walk away, that's his way of telling me 'no one.' I follow him to the next door and we go through the routine again and again until we get to the front doors where I know surveillance cameras are. After the routine, I get disappointed, "Is anyone there? Please? I need to get in!"

The door buzzes - telling me someone is inside watching the cameras. I close my eyes and blindly find the door handle, pulling it open for Spencer and me to go through. He leads me down the hall towards I don't know what. But I trust him. He stops suddenly and I ask, "Who's there?"

Instead of Spencer responding, a man says, "My name is Mr. Jingle. I'm the school's janitor. Are you lost?"

I shake my head, "Thank you for letting me in, sir. My mom sent me over here to give some papers to Mrs. Kinsley. Do you know where she is?"

"Sweaty, the school is closed," he chuckles, "I'm the only one here."

"Oh," I sigh, "Alright then. Well, I'm going to be starting school here next week," I hold my hand out, using the fake name the coroner gave me, "I'm Sarah."

"It's nice to meet you, Sarah," he takes my hand, shaking it. My silver-lined bracelet does just what I want it to. It slides down my wrist, edging up against his skin. He doesn't pull away, and that's all I need to know. "Would you like some help finding your way out?"

"No, thank you," I smile politely, "Spencer is really good with directions. He can show me."

"Alright," he smiles, "You have a nice day. And stay out of trouble."

"Yes sir," I giggle, Spencer leading me down the hall. I blindly search for the handle and step outside. Once we're a safe distance from the school - with no one around - I pull off the sunglasses, "Well, that wasn't helpful." Spencer takes a seat, waiting for my instructions, "I don't know. Miss Perigee is still a suspect, but I can't go back there unless it's for sure. I used an open-ended lie to get out."

I huff, leaning against the wall, "How come none of our other cases are ever this hard?" Spencer hangs his head and I give him a scratch, "I'd bet we'd have answers if those suits hadn't stepped in. Oh, well. I guess the next best step is to break into Miss Perigee's barn, huh?"

Spencer raises his head like I've said something awful. I glare, "You're the one who wanted to hunt with me. If you're gonna be a hunter, you've gotta learn to break some rules."

As I'm about to head out, I get a phone call. I quickly read the caller ID and smile, "Hey, Garth!"

"Hey Lex, you busy?" my guardian asks.

I laugh, "Am I ever."

He must think I'm being sarcastic, because he asks, "You want a case?"

"I'm sort of on one right now," I huff, "Why? Someone need some help?"

"It's a vampire nest," he explains, "In Burbank, Ohio."

I laugh, "Dude, that's where I'm at. You telling me other hunters are working this case? Wait, hold up. Let me guess. One's super tall with long hair and the other is gruff and brooding?"

"I guess you've already come across them?" Garth assumes, "Gruff and brooding is Dean and the tall one is Sam."

"Oh yeah?" I lean against the wall, "Those the two boys you're always talking about?"

"Sure are," he chuckles, "How are you coming on the case?"

"Nothing's panned out so far, but that's mostly their fault," I groan, "They got me kicked out of two places already."

He laughs, "Were you undercover?"

"Maybe," I huff.

He answers, "Well, they need your help. Listen, they're staying at Motel 6, room 27."

"Thanks, G," I grin, "I'm on it."

"Stay safe," he instructs before hanging up.

I say into an empty receiver, "You too." I look down at Spence, putting my phone away, "That was Garth. You're not gonna believe this but those two cops I was telling you about really are Hunters. On my case." He huffs and I nod, "I know right? What nerve."

I laugh, leading him away and towards the Motel 6. We have to ride the bus again, but it's not much of a distance. The driver is a different person. A man. He doesn't even give my dog a second glance. There's also hardly anyone else riding. Just some hobo four seats back. Spence and I take the front row.

I pet his fur absentmindedly. It helps calm me and he doesn't really mind. The driver looks back at me, "So, kid, where you headed all by yourself? Shouldn't you be in school?"

"I'm homeschooled," I explain, "Got the day off."

"Yeah, alright," he guy shrugs.

He pulls into a bus station and I ask, "How far from the Motel 6?"

"Next stop," he closes the doors when no one gets on, "Then go two blocks right."

"Thanks," I nod, turning back to the window. The ride is silent again except for Spencer's panting. He likes window seats, but I need them more. He deals. As we ride to the next stop, I wonder about what will happen when I meet up with these guys. I haven't worked with another hunter in over a year- besides Spence. Okay, and that one time with Onyx a few months back. But that's different. I actually knew the people I was working with.

Spence and I get off at the next stop and we walk out to the motel. Of course, when I knock, no one is there. "Well…okay then," I shrug, taking a seat outside the door, "Maybe they got a lead?"

Spence huffs, lying down, "I know, boy." I scratch his head some more until I hear a car coming. And it's no ordinary car. I whistle, listening to the harsh purr of an old, beautiful impala as it parks in front of us. I can see through the windshield that it's who I'm looking for and stand to greet my new partners.

Detective Smith - Dean - comes out first, looking a little worried, "Hey, aren't you that kid from the morgue? Everything alright?"

Okay, so, maybe I want to milk this a little, "That doesn't look like a typical police vehicle. You sure you're a cop?"

"It's a classic," he hesitates, shutting the door with a metallic creak, "What are you doing here?" Detective Kilmister- Sam - gets out next, giving me a curious look. And then Spencer.

"I'm here to help with the vampire case," I cross my arms, leaning against their door. Sam stops halfway in and out of the car, surprised to say the least.

"Vampire?" Dean scoffs, "There's no such-"

"Save it," I laugh, "Garth sent me. After I was already here. You two trying to steal my case?"

"Your case?" the large man speaks for the first time, "Aren't you, like, sixteen? Where's your partner? Better yet, where are your parents?"

"Spencer is my partner," I gesture to my best friend.

"The dog?" Dean asks skeptically.

Spencer growls at him. I shrug, "So you want to talk out here? Or…"

"Yeah, right," Dean nods fast, coming closer. I have to keep Spence from attacking. He hasn't exactly met Dean yet, and he's not too keen about letting strangers near me. Good dog. "Um…heal?" Dean asks Spencer.

"Sit," I state. Spence takes a seat while Dean slides his keycard into the door and Sam comes our way. I go in before Sam, so Spence stays close.

I cross my arms, looking around. It's got two beds and a bath like the typical motel room. The obvious differences are the porn on an open laptop and an arsenal spread across the second mattress. "Nice digs?"

Sam notices my gaze lingering on the laptop and quickly rushes over to close it, giving his brother a death glare. Dean looks back, his eyes saying 'what'? Sam turns to me, gesturing for me to sit on the non-arsenal bed, "So, you can help with our vampire problem, huh?"

"Sure," I take a seat, "No problem. Vampires, werewolves, and ghosts are my specialties."

"Of course they are," Dean huffs, pulling out his phone, "I'm calling Garth."

"Whatever," I shrug.

"Exactly how long have you been hunting?" Sam asks, taking a seat beside me.

"Six years- give or take," I smile, "You?"

Dean rolls his eyes, phone to his ear, "Whole lot longer, kid. Yeah, Garth? Listen, some little girl showed up saying you- yeah, she's- well, yeah, but- there's no way this kid is older than sixteen-"

"I'm fourteen," I tell him.

He turns to me, "Not helping," before turning to the wall, "Yeah, I'm still here."

"Fourteen?" Sam asks, "And you've been hunting for six years?"

"I know," I shrug, "I started young. But what can I say? It was in my blood."

"Family business, huh?" he grimaces.

I nod, "Sort of. But I kind of like it. I'm sure good at it."

He doesn't seem to like my answer but doesn't get a chance to say anything as Dean turns back to us, "Well, I guess this is her. You're Alexandria, then?"

"Lexi," I nod, "Lex if you prefer."

"Right," he sighs, taking a seat on the opposite bed, "So, uh…"

"Let's start with, 'Hi, I'm Dean. This is Sam and we've got a vampire problem," I hold my hand out to shake while Spence puts his paw up. Sam hesitantly takes the dog's, while Dean full-on blows me off. I shrug, "I had four suspects. Miss Perigee was one of them, but I'll assume she didn't pan out?"

"No," Sam states, "She's clean. What made you suspect her?"

"She along with three others work at the blood bank. I figure these aren't typical 'revenge' or 'hate' murders," I explain, "The only thing I could find in common between the victims was a B- blood type. Makes this case mondo hard."

"You're telling me," Sam laughs, "You do good research, though."

"Thank you," I smile.

Dean shakes his head, "Are we just supposed to ignore the fact that you're a teenager?"

I nod matter-of-factly, "Yes."

He hesitates, but cracks his neck, "Okay."

"Who else is on your list?" Sam asks.

I pull the small sheet out of my bag and hand it to him, "A blind guy and a dude in a wheelchair. Not exactly top priority suspects, but they made the cut. If they didn't pan out, I'd have to start from scratch. Looks like I've got to anyway."

Dean asks, "And these guys made the list because…?"

"Because they're the only ones with access to patient files," I explain.

"How did you get them?" Sam asks.

"Not important," I brush it off, "Also, the papers would suggest that the murders took place somewhere else and the bodies were dumped. But I don't think so. More like the victims put up a struggle and were killed there. It's like the cops were purposefully looking over the fact that the guy was in jogging shorts."

"You took a look at the body?" Dean asks.

"Duh," I laugh, "What else did you think I was doing down there?"

"So the killings are taking place in the forest," Sam agrees, "Told you."

"Whatever," Dean ignores him, "We still don't know who's doing it. Or where to find the nest."

"Anyone up for more research?" I suggest.

…

"I did a little more research," I explain as Dean and Sam sit at my picnic table, "And they were definitely all killed in the forest."

"What makes you say that?" Dean asks, tossing two sandwiches in front of me.

I unwrap the first, handing it to Spence who gladly gobbles it up, "The first victim, Miranda Wilcox, was a geologist. She was studying a flower's growth in different environments. Anyway, her research setup was found over near the river and her body was found in a ditch by the road. But I have a feeling if we went to her site, we'd find evidence of a struggle."

"And the second victim?" Sam asks, opening his salad.

I nod, turning my computer for them to see, "Dumped behind a restaurant building. But if you look at this-" I click on the morgue's file and show them a picture of his clothing, "There's algae on his shorts. And his Facebook profile says he's a frequent rafter. And the lake by Miranda's site? Heavy rafting traffic. Not to mention that victim number three was found on a trail not too far from there," I close my computer with a happy click, "I believe we've got our murder site."

"Hold up," Dean states, "Go back to the part where you explain how you got the morgue's files."

"Not important," I shrug, "I also took a look at the other possible victims-to-be with a B- blood type. Two of them are frequent visitors of the forest. But only one is still in town-"

"And you did all of this in the time it took us to get the food?" Sam asks.

I shrug, "The guy's name is Andrew Kripke. He lives on 47 main street. Five minutes from here-"

"Great," Dean nods, "Then you can go back to the motel room and we'll go talk to him."

"And why can't I come?" I scoff.

"If you can think of a good excuse why a fourteen-year-old is accompanying two FBI agents, then I'd be glad to hear it," Dean says smugly.

I give him a 'look' that says he's not amusing. Sam steps in fast, "Alright, so just wait for us at the motel room and we'll pick you up before we head out."

"How do I know that?" I ask. He gives me a skeptical look, "From the way he talks, it sounds like you're gonna ditch me to take care of it yourselves."

"Well, maybe we will," Dean states.

I glare, "Well maybe it's my case and you don't have the right."

He scoffs like he's gonna make a comeback, but Sam interjects, "We didn't mean to offend you-"

"You didn't," I state, "He did."

"I just don't get how a kid can run around hunting monsters by herself," Dean states, "And with a dog."

"There is nothing wrong with Spencer," I tell him, "Anyway. Thanks, but we can take it from here."

"You're not going alone," Dean tells more than asks me, "You don't even know where the nest is."

"Actually, I do," I stand from the table. Spencer is ready to follow me in seconds, "But I'm just a kid. So what do I know."

Spencer gives Dean a good growl, before following me away from the table. "We could still help? It never hurts to have backup." Sam asks.

"Thanks," I don't look back, "But we've got this."

…

"Okay, Spencer," I crouch down beside him, "You scout the outside while I head in. Are your teeth good?"

He opens his mouth, showing off his silver-lined faux stake teeth with dead man's blood tips. I love my homemade inventions. I take a quick whiff of his lemon scent and grimace, "Good. Now be careful. I don't want you getting hurt." He barks quietly and trots off in search of vamps. I unholster my stake gun, trotting in the opposite direction.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I turn from a jog to run as I reach the barn, slamming my back to the wall just beside the door - gun at the ready. I hear screaming inside and know that something is wrong. It's a slashing, murderous type of scream. Not the 'help me, I'm being attacked by a mugger' scream. Either the vamps are fighting with each other or other hunters are already here. Probably those two jerks. Never mind. Angrily, I spin around, kicking open the door to find them fighting the vamps in the dust. It's hard to tell who is who and what to shoot at, so I aim blindly - knowing I'll hit my mark. Whatever that may be.

Bang!

My gun goes off. A small stake flies through the air, lodging itself into a chest. I aim at another target and another, shooting each blood-sucking vamp till they hit the ground. As the dust clears, I lower my weapon. Quickly, I tuck it away and grab a regular bullet gun from my holster - my spare vamp pistol at the ready - aiming the first at the closest hunter's chest. Better safe than sorry.

My chest rises and falls as I aim my weapon. Sam - who isn't currently looking down the barrel of my gun - raises his hands while Dean stares me down. "Whoa, hold up there. We come in peace."

"This was my hunt," I state.

"Well excuse us for thinking we should take care of it," Dean states, not at all put off by my aim.

"I told you I would," I remind him, angrily holstering the bullet gun.

"It's a free country," he counters. Before I can say something I'll probably regret, the scene takes a turn. Dean's eyes grow bigger and time slows down. His hand tightens on his blade as he raises it, taking a step forward, "Watch out!"

I spin fast, crouching to my knee and pulling out my secondary vamp pistol. I fire one shot into the center of the vamp's chest. He's down before Dean gets his hand raised. I stand slowly, turning back to them with a hair flip, "Well, that was close." Once I'm facing them again, Sam looks shocked while Dean is left stunned. Trust me, there's a difference. I shrug, "Think that's all of them?"

"Yeah," Sam states slow, "Should be."

I hear a bark and Spencer comes bounding in. His muzzle and fur are covered in blood. I crouch down to him, "Good boy, Spence. Did you get some vampires?" He falls to his back, letting me scratch his tummy, "Yeah, good boy."

"Is that blood?" Sam grimaces.

"What else would it be?" I don't turn to them.

Dean groans, "I can't believe you actually brought your dog on a hunt."

"Why not?" I shrug, "He knows what he's doing. Don't you, Spencer?" My dog barks once. He rolls back over, getting to his feet, "Good boy." Sirens are heard outside and I whip around to face the door. "Great. Neighbors."

"Dean, we should go," Sam states.

I don't think before I ask, only listening to the sirens, "Can I get a lift?"

They both rush past, "Just hurry." I quickly follow them out and to their impala. Every instinct tells me that I shouldn't, but I do. I get it the back of their car, Spencer jumping in with me. Dean drives, kicking dust as he takes off.

As we round the corner, I say, "Hold up. My bag."

He pulls onto the side of the road and I open the door. Spencer is faster than me, quickly jumping out and grabbing our bags from the bushes. He climbs back in and Dean takes off, "I can't believe I'm letting that mutt in my car."

…

Spencer and I got a motel room for the night. I need to wash the blood off of him. And that awful lemon scent - I totally understand why vampires hate it. I shake my head, scrubbing him down, "Exactly how many did you kill? This stuff is caked on you."

He bats his paw twice and I grimace, "Just don't tell me you're getting a taste for them." He growls, "Yeah? No kidding they taste gross."

It's ten minutes later - Spencer mostly dry - when I hear a knock at the front door. Spencer gets ready for attack, but I have a feeling I know who it is. "It's alright, Spence." I open the door, not even bothering to bring my gun. "Yeah? What's up?"

"Can we come in?" Dean asks.

I roll my eyes and let the two hunters in, "Sure. But if you're going to tell me I'm too young or inexperienced, you're wasting your breath."

Sam punches Dean's shoulder, "Told you."

I laugh as they take seats at the table, "So? Was that it? Or something else?"

"I'm just trying to understand," Dean states, "A kid your age shouldn't be hunting. Especially not by yourself."

I take a seat too, Spencer dropping down at my feet, "I don't really see why you should care."

"I don't," Dean states.

Sam rolls his eyes, "We do. I know we don't know you very well, but you can never have too many friends who are hunters."

"Where are your parents?" Dean asks point-blank. I knew it was coming, but it was also kind of out of nowhere.

I shrug, giving the same old lie that every other Hunter I meet gets, "Family business includes a lot of responsibility. I was expected to leave when I was eight. Stayed 'til I was ten, though. Family of warriors, you know?"

"What? And you don't keep in touch?" he asks.

I shake my head, "Not supposed to. If I can't handle myself on a hunt by the time I'm ten, then I shouldn't be hunting in the first place."

"Well, that's…intense," Sam says slow.

And totally untrue. But sure makes me seem tougher than I am, "So you see now why my hunting alone isn't that big a deal?"

"I mean…if you were trained since you were little…like a Spartan-" I giggle as Dean continues. That's the nickname my dad gave me, "Then, yeah, I guess I get that. I don't like it, but I understand it."

[This conversation dead-ended on me…I need ideas. Thoughts?]

…

"Well, thanks," I shrug. Dean drove me to the train station. We stand outside his impala, while I tell them goodbye.

"Where are you headed?" Sam asks, slightly concerned.

"Not sure yet," I shrug, "Probably to another town. Another case. Why? Where are you headed?"

He grins, "Not sure yet. Another town. Another case."

"We'll be seeing you kid," Dean says, "Make sure you stay safe."

"You, too," I grin.

I'm about to walk off when he huffs, "Crap. Here." I turn to find him handing me a fake business card with his and Sam's names on the back. Along with his last name; Winchester. I gulp, my hand etching towards my bag.

Sam adds, "If you ever need any help…give us a call alright?"

I quickly nod, looking up. I smile wide, entering it into my phone, "And if you ever need my help…" I send him a text that says hi, "Here's mine."

"Nice," he smiles.

I smile back and Spencer thankfully nudges my leg as an out. I pick up his leash and wave, "See you around."

"Yeah," Dean nods, "See ya." Spence doesn't realize my urgency as I lead him onto the train but he follows me none the less.

When I'm going cross country, I prefer them over busses. Sure, they're not as fast, but they're more comfortable and there's usually more travel room. And I'm afraid of heights- so no airplanes.

We find seats on the top level, looking down. I watch as the two men talk to each other, no doubt arguing about my continuation in the hunting field. I remember my old gang didn't like my going off by myself either. Especially not Liam. But that's for another time. Maybe I'll call him later. Whatever.

As the train takes off, I just can't help myself. Spence watches as I reach into my bag and grab an old letter. It's faded and starting to turn more manila than white with everything it's been through. I rub my thumb over the lettering on the front. In black ink, with spiral letters of my mom's handwriting, Dean Winchester's name is in the very middle. My mom asked me to give this to him if we ever met. I was tempted, but I just couldn't. It wasn't the right time. And as I sit here, holding the letter in my hands, tracing over the letters, I know it won't be the last time I see him.


	2. Episode 2: Love Stinks!

**Author Note:** _Sorry for the week's delay. I was in the hospital last weekend and couldn't get it uploaded._

_Also, I used a transcript from 'Love Hurts' for this episode because it crosses over with the second half of the Supernatural episode. See disclaimer for disclaimer._

* * *

_The room is dark. I can tell it's big because of the air around me. I can smell monsters of every variety in a tight circle, surrounding me. I can't hear anything but the intense ring in my ears from the last blow to my head, but I know they're cheering for death. Carnage. Something stabs into my back-_

_I scream at the top of my lungs, chemicals being pumped into my neck to make my blood taste sweeter. The vampire that watches me as I'm strapped to the surgical table laughs in pleasure, licking his lips with anticipation._

_"Get away from her!" Liam yells at the ghoul who's got a knife pointed at my throat. Just past her, I see the empty shell of my dad tied to a chair. His soul is gone; blood, bone, and burnt flesh are all that's left. Even as my best friend kills the monster, unstraps me, and pulls me from the scene, I can't get the gory image from my mind._

_I sit alone in a small, wooden crate. Surrounded by my own feces, the smell alone could kill me. But I stay strong. I stay brave. Until Asmodeous opens the door, his toxic smile sealing my doom. He reaches in a hand-_

"Ah!" I jolt forward on the bed, everything around me is enveloped in light. Spencer barks at me, padding at my chest to force me to lie down, but I'm not thinking straight. I saw him. He was here. Those eyes- that face! I can't. I can't!

I try to move off the bed, but Spencer holds me down. He growls at me, threatening to bite. It's enough to make me freeze. We stare at each other a moment, Spencer instantly losing his glare. He licks my cheek, replacing my tears with slobber. I grimace, shoving his face away, "Seriously, Spence? Get off."

He hesitates, making sure I'm okay before he moves away. I huff, sitting up and holding my head. I thought the meds were supposed to make the nightmares go away. "What's the point in taking this stupid crap if it's not even going to work?"

By now, the memories are faded and blurred in the back of my mind. Like a bad movie I watched and don't remember the details of. Spencer growls at me and I roll my eyes, "Whatever. I'm awake now. I'm thinking a shower and some breakfast before we hit the road. Sound good?" He pants at me, licking his lips, "Yeah. I'll get you some water. Hold on."

The gun under my pillow makes me chill a little as I stuff it into my waistband. I see the scar and hold it as I climb out of bed. Phantom pains always stay for a while after really bad nightmares with…_. I shiver just thinking about him and try to clear my head. I ask, "Spence? You mind turning on the-"

A giant crack of thunder shakes the motel room; the space lights up instantly for at least three seconds before disappearing back into darkness. I jump back, pressed to the wall with my gun held out in front of me. "Sh-."

Spencer trots towards me nudging my shin as I shakily lower the gun, "Spence. Lights. Please." He gives a small bark, bounding over the chair I set up next to the door. He jumps onto the cushion, nudging the switch with his nose. And nothing happens. "Great. Power's out. Flashlights it is."

Spencer immediately jumps down and goes to my bag where he pulls out a flashlight. He brings it to me, though, because he's still learning how to turn it on by himself. "Thanks." I flip on the switch and set it on the counter so it shines up and illuminates the whole room. I huff, "Don't feel like showering in the dark, but my clothes are soaked. You mind coming in with me? Watching the door?"

He trots in ahead of me and takes a seat just outside, waiting for me to go in first. I give him a pat on the head, "Thanks, bud." I sigh, grabbing clothes from my backpack before walking over. I bring the flashlight, too, and use it to light the bathroom. After, of course, I try the light switch. Spencer lays down in front of the door to block it, myself setting my gun on the toilet tank.

I turn the water on full blast hot, wincing as it burns my skin. The steam unclogs my pores and wraps me in warmth. Just before I get out, I make it completely cold to wake me up. Once I've finished, I feel a lot more calm and clean. This motel has cool towels that are big and fluffy. I gladly wrap it around myself before stepping out onto the cold tile of the bathroom floor. I put my socks and shoes back on along with the rest of my clothes. Showers always make me uneasy. If there's an emergency, it's not like I can just run outside in the nude.

I stuff the gun back into my waistband. Spencer perks up when I say, "Okay. All clean. We'll wait 'til the storm stops to catch breakfast. How about Netflix 'til it dies down?" He yaps, standing and waiting for me to open the door. I bring the flashlight back out with us, setting it up as he stands next to the bed.

Ring!

I spring around fast, holding my gun up once more. My phone rings a second time and I cuss, "D-n, I'm jumpy." I rub my temples, walking over for my phone. I answer it on the third ring to find it's an old friend, "Hey, Darla."

"Hey, Lex. Did I wake you?" she asks.

I take a seat on the bed, curling up within myself. Even if I had been asleep, I'd of still answered, "Nah, storm did that for me. What's up?"

Right on queue, a crack of thunder shakes the room again. Spencer dives into the bed with me, putting his head under the covers. I pet his back through the storm. As far as I can tell, he's only afraid of thunderstorms and being possessed by a ghost and attacking me again. I can't help the first besides comforting him, but I managed to fix the second by giving him a tattoo. Some may call it animal cruelty, but he was all for it. Trust me, no one wants to be possessed. Not even Labradors.

"I could use some help if you're interested," Darla says as I trace the anti-possession symbol in Spencer's skin. "We had to kick one of our members out of the convent a year ago for using home-cooked spells on innocents. Sure, they were rude and deceitful, but our laws are more strict these days. She's calling herself a white witch, and it's…giving us a bad name. Even our regulars are afraid to come to us now."

"A witch huh?" I grab my laptop off the dresser by the bed, "Where at?"

"I'm not sure. She's been off our radar for a while, but a man was killed in Akron, Ohio by one of her spells. The Men of Letters banned us from Ohio, so if they get wind of this before we can take care of it, we could get shut down."

"And you and your convent can't do anything because you'd have to use magic in Ohio," I look into bus and train routes to find the fastest, "I get it. Do you have a name?"

"I have her original name, but I doubt she's going by it," she says, "Like I said, we dropped all contact with her."

I ask, "Anything to go by at all?"

"I can give you a description?" she suggests, "But she could have changed it."

I sigh, "Well at least I've got a starting point and a creature type. That's more than I usually have to go on. I'll take care of it, Darla. Don't worry."

"I can always count on you, Lexi," she says, "Thank you. And tell Spencer I say hi."

"Of course," I say just before she hangs up on me. I turn to my best friend, "That was Darla. She says hey and that we've got a case. A white witch in Ohio."

He noses my leg from under the blankets. The hard rain still pounds on the window and roof, but the thunder hasn't shook the room again yet. I tell him, "Try to get some sleep. I'm going to watch some stuff, okay?"

He doesn't protest to that as I run my hand along his fur to sooth him. He's snoring within seconds. I smirk down at him before picking up my headphones and booking a bus ticket. We'll leave around nine a.m. and get there around four in the afternoon. Shouldn't be too much trouble. When I'm sure Spencer is out, I don't turn on Netflix. Instead, I do some investigating into supernatural deaths in the Akron surrounding areas.

…

Waiting at the bus stop makes me anxious and Spencer can tell. I even went as far as to put his service vest on, just so I could have the handle to hang onto. We don't use it to make him stay close. It's more like a lifeline.

Everyone who walks by makes me queasy, making me wonder which of them are monsters. Onyx did tell me once that one out of every twenty people I come across in everyday settings could potentially be a monster. He's not one for boosting moral.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, looking at the picture on my home screen. Myself and three others, along with Spencer, sit at a picnic table while Uncle Bobby takes our picture. Liam, my five-foot-eleven boyfriend with gorgeous brown hair, a tight a-, hard abs, and a smile to melt a heart sits beside me on the table. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders as he kisses me, making me blush.

Onyx's big, bulky, six-foot form, short stubbled black hair, and brown skin- smooth as chocolate, would make anyone think he was a tough brute who kills with a glance. In reality, he's a giant, quiet teddy bear who leans into the picture from my other side with a half-smirk. In front of us, Kelsey and Spencer sit on the bench, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck with the biggest grin I've ever seen. She's a five-foot-six bad a- with blonde hair and a thin frame. Sure, she looks like a cheerleader, but she's tough as nails and can kick anything's a- with a flip of her hair.

It's been months since I've seen my friends. I wonder what hunt they're working on these days. I could always call, but I only contact them in emergencies. And I told them to only do the same. I'm still a little sore about what Liam did. No matter how much I want to go back, I don't think I can ever forgive him.

The speakers overhead announce my bus' arrival. Spencer and I grab our gear and get ready to go on. I do my best not to draw attention to myself, what with carrying several weapons on me. I know they're well concealed in my clothes and bag so I won't have another freak out on my hands (it did not end well that one time I went to hand a lady a tissue and my shirt lifted to show my gun), but I still get nervous. Thankfully the Greyhound doesn't do metal detectors. Neither do trains, which is just another reason to hate flying.

The man who takes my ticket asks if I'm riding alone, saying that I look maybe fifteen. Which is a year older than I am, but I'll take it. I nod and say, "Thank you so much! I'm actually twenty-two. My skincare routine must really be paying off." I give my routine an extra boost by messing with my skin where wrinkles should be. My ticket that has my 'birthday' confirms my story. He doesn't ask about Spencer- it's sort of illegal- but he does eye the traffic vest. I don't put any kind of patches on it to tell people 'what he's for.' I honestly don't feel like it's there business. But there are two patches, one on each side, that say 'do not touch.' Usually, I don't put them on, but something about last night is still getting to me.

Spencer and I hop into seats near the middle - me at the window - and get ready for the few hours drive. Sitting on a bus for long periods is nothing new. I'm just glad I look old enough that I don't have to jump trains or pretend to be boarding with a family anymore. I grimace as I remember when I was nine and had to pretend to be a foreign exchange and fake translate what the family was saying. It backfired when the cop actually knew Spanish.

Spencer nudges my arm, so I hand him some dog treats. He nibbles away, no one paying us any mind. Except, of course, for one nosy passenger, "Who let this dog on the bus? Animals aren't allowed!"

I say, "He is."

She says, "No he's not. They wouldn't let me bring my parakeet-"

"Spencer is a service dog," I say.

"So? Roland is a_ comfort animal, too_!" she says, "He has just as much- if not _more-_ right to be here than a mutt."

I want to snap at her that, first of all, nothing is comforting about a parakeet, and secondly- he is a service dog. Not a comfort animal. There's a difference. Instead, I tell her, "I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like to sit across from us? Maybe Spencer can bring you some comfort?" He doesn't look too happy that I volunteered him like that, but I wave it off. I'm sure she wouldn't actually agree. I was just being polite. I guess it's an empty gesture, but I don't care. I don't want to share Spencer with her.

"I have a _medical_ note from my _doctor_ that _only_ my parakeet can help _me._ As in _one_ person," she says, "If you can just pimp out your dog like that, then he's not a real comfort animal."

I stare blankly at her. Did she just say what I think she just said? Instead of engaging, I reach into my bag and pull out my headphones, putting them on my head. I hear as she scoffs at me and goes to the bus driver to complain. When the driver doesn't even acknowledge her complaint, she storms back to me and taps on my shoulder. It makes Spencer growl, so I tell him, "Down." He immediately drops his head into my lap. I take off my headphones and ask, "Yes?"

"I'd like to see some identification," she says, "Otherwise, I want you off this bus."

Again, I stare blankly at her and slowly put back on my headphones. I am so not going to deal with this. I know monsters- not people. I have a feeling anything I do at this point will just set the lady off, but at least music will help keep me calm. She shouts in outrage and tries to grab Spencer's traffic leash. To which, Spencer snaps at her.

I immediately yank off my headphones and stand up, ready to defend him. But man am I shaking. I say, "Please leave us alone."

It gets the bus driver's attention and he comes back to us, "What's the problem here?"

Before I can say anything, the lady interrupts, "That mutt snapped at me! It tried to bite me-!"

"It's a protective protocol," I explain, getting a little agitated. What I wouldn't give for a good ghost or gremlin right about now. Heck, even a pagan g- would be easier to deal with than this lady. "His vest even says don't touch- you tried to grab him-"

"You what?" the bus driver looks at the woman.

She says, "I told her I wanted to see her dog's records or I wanted her gone. She chose not to show me anything, so yes, I tried to remove her-"

"That's illegal," he says, "You can't ask her for papers, she doesn't have to show them, and if he snapped at you- then you probably deserved it. Now either take your seat or get on another bus."

My grip on the seat in front of me gets tighter as the seconds drone on. Spencer still faces the woman, but he twitches towards me- trying to decide between comfort and protect. The woman huffs at us and storms to the back of the bus. When she's gone, Spence immediately turns and nudges my arm to make me move. I shakily settle my hand on his head, "Thanks."

"No problem," the driver says, thinking I'd been talking to him, "If she gives you any more trouble, let me know."

"Sure," I say as he walks back to the front. Spence bites the hem of my shirt, tugging to make me sit. I do and he puts his head in my lap. I stroke his fur, trying to calm down. I shouldn't have let it escalate that far. My mother would be so disappointed. Rule number four is to never draw attention to myself. Rule number seven is to never start a fight with a civilian. Not to mention Rule number twenty-two; don't talk to strangers unless absolutely necessary. Spencer licks my free hand and I look down, "It's gonna be a long drive, huh, bud?"

He huffs into my lap and I pull my headphones back on, staring out the window.

…

I managed to find three unsolved, mysterious cases during my research. Two of them were closed as 'accidents' while the third is still in investigation. From the sounds of things, there's a good chance it will turn to a cold case.

Apparently, a housekeeper was killed in the living room of a wealthy family's house while the owners were at dinner. No sign of forced entry. But the biggest kicker was that she had a fist-sized hole in her chest. Her heart had literally been ripped out from the back. Freaking stuff. But amateur at best.

It happened over in Hudson a few days back, so there shouldn't be too much heat looking into things. It makes it easier for me to snoop around. I tell all of this to Spencer as we walk to the town bus stop, having just got some donuts. Spencer licks the strawberry jelly from his snout, leaving a frightening red stain that makes a child squeal in horror as we walk past.

It's getting dark out when we hop on. I use my phone to find out where a good motel is for the night, deciding we should talk to the wife in the morning. Of course, when we step off the bus outside of Too Tired Motel, I can't believe my eyes.

"No way," I stare.

Spencer and I watch from the bus bench as a black impala backs into a spot at the motel across the street. It couldn't be…I mean, what with a witch being nearby and everything, yeah, I guess it could be them. Stealing my hunt again? Go figure.

I make my way across the street to the sleazy building of rooms. Watching Dean get out of his car, I smirk, telling Spence to hurry up. The old hunter gets inside the room before I catch him, making it so I have to knock at the door.

It takes a moment, but the opens it quick, "Lex?"

"Long time, no see stranger," I step past him, making my way in. Spencer at my heels, we make ourselves comfortable, myself setting my bag down by the door while Spence hops onto a bed. I nod towards Sam whose sitting behind a laptop at the small table by the door. He still looks like a giant, "What's the haps?"

"Hey, Lex," Sam smiles wide, "What are you doing here?"

"Working a case, saw your car parked outside," I say. Sam leans down, holding out his hands. Spencer trots over to him, letting him pet, "You doing the same?"

"Yeah, we're uh-" Sam gets cut off by frantic pounding. I come father into the room as Dean raises his brow, going to check. He looks through the peephole, the person still pounding furiously.

Dean opens the door to a woman, "Hey there-" who quickly spins around and locks the door. Top and bottom. Giving us a look of, 'she's crazy' Dean asks her, "Everything okay?"

"No," she moves away from the door to the window. She looks out with wide eyes, "Dan tried to kill me."

"Dan?" Dean asks, moving closer, "Your dead husband, Dan?"

Her who is what now? Sam and I give her curious looks before she turns and says to Dean, "You told me to come to you if anything strange or out of the ordinary happened? Well, it did. And I think it's all my fault." Her eyes land on me and I give a small wave. She blinks at me, I guess not expecting to see me or Spence here. I'm starting to get the feeling I picked the wrong time to say hello.

"Okay, why don't you come sit down- C'mon," Dean puts her at the table across from Sam. I make my way over, standing behind the larger male. He doesn't think twice about it.

Dean stands behind the lady as she explains, "I swear. I really did love Dan. Maybe a little too much. I just…I wanted him to love me back. So I got some advice and I confided in my hairdresser about the affair."

"Wait, women actually do that?" Dean asks with a small smirk on his lips.

Sam and I give him a look to behave himself as she adds, "And she told me there was a way to get him back. I knew she…uh…dabbled in stuff."

"Wait a second," Sam asks, "What kind of stuff are you talking about here?"

"She calls herself a uh…white witch," she says. Spencer growls from beside me, my eyes widening. Yep, definitely the same case. Now that she's here, wasn't the husband's name Dan? He's dead, too? Since when? So this must be the wife…I wish I could remember her name. Starts with an M I think? She adds, "Listen I don't know if you believe in that sort of thing. I usually don't, but I was desperate."

"And let me guess," I ask, "She gave you a spell."

"Yes," the woman says, almost relieved. Sam gives me a look over his shoulder that says something along the lines of 'that's why you're here?' I nod once, looking back at the lady as she says, "A return to love spell. All I had to do was chant it and seal it with a kiss. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I swear. I just wanted my husband back."

She's started crying, Sam trying to keep composure, "Do you happen to have a copy of the spell on you?"

"Oh. Yes. Yes," she says through tears, handing over a piece of paper.

I read over Sam's shoulder, "Wow. Okay for starters. Not a spell. More like an Aramaic curse."

Sam hands it to me, the woman getting up and walking around to our side, "What?"

"Yeah, this roughly translates to the kiss of death."

She plops herself down in a different chair, obviously being confused. Dean walks over to offer her a beer that she declines. He sets it on the table, so I pick it up. "May I?" I ask referring to the drink, even though I'm already taking a sip.

"You can read that?" Dean asks.

I nod, not really thinking about the fact that 'what fourteen-year-old knows Aramaic?' It was an elective in my homeschooling. That or Latin, which I ended up taking the next year. I read over the rest of it that's mostly just instructions; 'Chant these words and kiss the victim to summon a Quareen in the form of-'

"I swear. She never told me that," the lady insists.

Dean asks Sam, "Is there any lore on it?"

Sam looks to me first, and I say, "None that I've heard of. My best guess is that this is the white witch's home cooking. The ingredients are mostly 'cheep, everyday substitutes.' She's been known for making her own."

"You've heard of her before?" Sam asks.

I nod, looking over the rest, "Sort of. Ticked off a friend of mine- she's banned from the area, so she asked me to drop by when she connected it to a murder a town over. I got here a few hours ago and was looking for a lead so I could go gank her- Um…" I look up at the lady, "Yeah."

"What all do you know about her?" Sam asks.

I shrug, "Not much. Just that she's on my friend's bad side, murdered someone, and uses home-cooked spells."

"And we know that this spell kills whoever you kiss," Dean adds.

"I guess," Sam says, looking over at the woman, "Wait a second. You didn't kiss Stacy?"

"No of course not," she says.

"No, but Dan did," Dean says. The lady rolls her eyes in an annoyed way while I am left confused. Guess my short-lived moment of knowing something is, well, short-lived.

"So the curse is transmittable?" Sam asks

"Like a magic STD," Dean says.

I agree with them, mostly just wanting to be useful, "It's been done before. Where one person can avoid the curse by passing it to someone else."

"Okay that works," Dean says, lifting a beer to his lips, "Kinda makes you nostalgic for good old fashioned herpes." He quickly clears his throat when he realizes he's talking to a fourteen-year-old. I roll my eyes and take a sip of my own.

"Oh god. I killed Dan and Stacy," the lady says.

"You didn't kill anyone," Sam says, trying to make sure she really understands, "This is all on that witch." The lady looks thankful for his words, but not really like she believes him.

Dean asks, "Riddle me this. Why did Stacy die first if she was kissed second?"

"I don't know. Maybe you're safe if you can pass the curse on?" Sam asks.

"And then if that person dies then it comes back to you?" Dean asks.

"I mean that would make sense. It would explain why, whatever this is, is working its way back to Melissa," Sam says.

"I'm sorry," the lady says, "I'm confused."

"Yeah cause it's freaking confusing. Look long story short, it's like a game of hot potato. You gotta keep paying it forward. You don't, you die." Dean says.

Sam adds, "Melissa. This curse, it started with you. And I think it wants to end with you."

Dean says, "But don't worry. Okay? We're not gonna let that happen."

A brick breaks open the patio window, glass spilling everywhere as the lady screams. Dean is quick to snatch her from the chair and shield her behind him as a man walks through the glass. His steely eyes and hardened face are the definition of the 'I want to kill you and act like a zombie while doing it' look.

Sam being closer, the man backhands the giant, sending him into the wall. His eyes fixed on the lady, Dean and I pull out guns. We both get off some shots into the dude's chest, but he stays standing. Part of my mind instantly goes to 'demon,' but I shake those thoughts away, remembering that not only am I on a case but that it's a witch hunt case.

While I reach into my back pocket for a second clip, Dean turns and kisses the lady on the lips. I stare wide-eyed, almost as frozen as she is. Dean detaches and looks over at the creature. The thing's attention goes from the lady to Dean in an instant.

Dean transferred the curse.

Just as the creature is about to attack, Sam comes out of nowhere with one of the plastic red chairs from the table and smashes it into the dude's head. He falls to the floor, but that's at the back of Sam's mind, "What the hell did you do?"

Dean leans down, grabbing his jacket, "Come on. Let's just go." We head out the door, myself grabbing my bag on the way. We scramble to get into the car, the lady and I getting into the back with Spencer between us. I reach up to hold onto Sam's seat as Dean tears out of the parking lot, leaving the motel room behind.

I look over at the lady, whose name I caught is Melissa, holding out my hand, "I'm Lex, by the way."

She gives me an incredulous look like I'm somehow the craziest thing that's happened in the past five minutes. Go figure.

…

We get a good distance from the motel before Dean pulls to the side of the road. He grabs his jacket out of the backseat before hopping out, "I'd say that went pretty well. What do you think?"

Sam gets out, too. I'm a half step behind their lead, leaving Spencer in the car with Melissa, "Wait a second- Are you serious? You think it's a great idea to give yourself a fatal curse?"

"Hold that-" Dean says, handing over a white-handled gun while he finds the key for the trunk. "Well, targets off her back ain't it?"

Sam, looking very upset with his declaration, says, "I'm just saying. You don't have to do this. Be the guinea pig."

"The what?" Dean asks.

"Be the martyr," Sam says, the two of them putting on coats. I can't help but stare. They just act so normal about transferring curses and being bait. Like it happens every Thursday night on the CW. "Try to carry the weight by yourself. Do this."

"I'm gonna be fine," Dean says, almost annoyed. Maybe this does happen a lot. "Okay? And as long as I'm good, she's good and that's the important thing. Besides," he bends down to get inside the trunk. I stare wide-eyed at all of their old weapons. They seriously need to update. I mean, I don't even see a steak gun. "It proved our theory, didn't it? That this whole kiss of death thing is transmittable. I mean I'm not asking for the Nobel here, but thank you." He takes the gun back from Sam, both of them rummaging through the trunk for supplies.

I sling my bag off my shoulder and look for my Melters. Witches aren't all that hard to gank, but they are hard to pin. And with her pet having a target, it should keep it off my (and Sam's) back long enough to take her out. Honestly, I think it's noble of Dean to do something like this- maybe he should get the prize.

"How long do you think we have?" I ask.

They both give me a sideways look like they forgot I was here. I have that effect on people sometimes. "I don't know," Dean says, "I mean it's not like this thing is exactly following a pattern. I don't even know what I'm looking for here. We cut out of there pretty quick though so maybe I bought us some time-"

"What," Melissa asks, "Was that?" Well, she came out of nowhere. Spencer bounds to my side, sitting on the asphalt by my leg.

"Uh," Dean and Sam look put off, like they'd forgotten she was here, too. I had. "We think it was something called a shapeshifter, but it can't be because we pumped the thing full of silver and it didn't even flinch." I nod in agreement before noticing where her eyes trail to.

I clear my throat, Dean and Sam noticing, too. She asks, "What kind of FBI agents are you?"

"The fake kind," Dean says.

"We're hunters," Sam says

"Hunters?" the lady asks, "And her?"

"Colleague," I shrug, "I'm a hunter, too."

"Look all you need to know is we save people like you from things like that," Dean takes the charge, closing the trunk.

"Even if it's not a shapeshifter, it's still shifting shapes," Sam says, "If we can find out what it is we can find out how to kill it."

I want to tell them it's a Quareen, but I don't know if that'd help. I don't even know what that is, so I doubt they do. Either way, before I can put it out there, Dean asks her, "Alright. What do you know about the white witch?"

"N-not much. Her name is Sonja. She's kind of weird. I don't know. She's only been my hairdresser for a couple of months," Melissa says.

Dean asks, "Do you know where she lives?"

"Not a clue," she answers.

"Where did she give you the spell? Sam asks.

She says, "In the basement of her salon."

The three of us exchange looks. I guess we have our destination.

…

Dean pulls the car up to the salon, the headlights illuminating the business sign. He reads, "The Art of Dyeing. Well. Can't say she didn't warn ya."

The three of us look at him like 'really?'

"Alright," Sam says, "Just keep the doors locked and stay put until we get back."

"Unless Sonja shows up," I pull out a knife from my boot, "Then use this on her." She looks at me with wide eyes, so I tell her, "It won't kill her, but it'll slow her down."

"Are you serious? I can't stab anyone!" she tells me, refusing to take it.

"Come on," I try again to hand it over. She reluctantly takes it.

"Listen to me," Dean says as she grimaces at the blade, "Sonja's not just anyone. She's a wicked witch who offed your husband and tried to kill you, so if she shows up here you punch her, you stab her, you drop a freaking house on her if you have to." She nods, obviously scared.

I ask, "Drop a house on her?" Spencer doesn't understand it, either. Where did that come from?… Would that really work? Sam gives me a look to let it go and we get out of the car.

I can tell from the glass door that everything inside the building is dark. While Sam works on lock-picking the door, I reach into my bag for a flashlight. Spencer nudges my leg and I shoo him off. The message is that he can just stay close and use mine. In fact, "Spencer, wait by the car." He pouts at me, pawing at my leg, "I'm serious. Give Melissa some backup." He huffs at me, trotting off.

Dean tells me, "Maybe you should wait by the car, too."

I wave him off, "Please. You chumps will need my help to get this done."

Sam opens the door, Dean handing him a flashlight, already holding one of his own. We walk inside and there's not much to say. It's a salon. It's got the hair-drying chairs and the spin-y ones where hairdressers do all the snipping. The only thing out of place is the odd sense of darkness and doom. And I don't just mean cause the lights are out.

Dean notices Sam's gun, to which Sam explains, "Witch killing bullets."

"We gotta come up with a better name than that," Dean says.

I say, "My friend calls them Melters. He got the idea from some old movie where a witch disintegrated from water being tossed on her." If only it were that easy.

"You mean the Wizard of Oz?" Sam asks.

I raise a brow, "The what?"

"Shh," Dean says, standing by a door marked 'Employees Only.' It squeals as he opens it, adding to the creepy vibe this place gives off. "Hey." Sam and I make our way over. It leads to a staircase that the brothers go down without question. Maybe I shouldn't have told Spencer to stay behind.

When we get to the bottom, I want to mentally slap myself. It's not scary. It's just a salon basement. There's nothing to worry about. And sure enough, the only things waiting for us are a shelf full of shampoo and some walls that could use some decorations. Sam's attention is drawn to a, "Locked cabinet." Dean and I walk over to give him some extra light as he pries the door open with a pocket knife. "Lookie here."

Inside is a small plastic tub with a glass bottle. It's filled with blue liquid, making me think of a giant bottle of expensive perfume. Other trinkets lie in the plastic tub that aren't all that interesting. Next to it is a small, woven ball of something.

"Hey hey," Dean says just before Sam moves the bucket over with a small clank of glass.

I shake my head at what lies under it; a spellbook. Of course. What else would a hair salon ever need? "Alright," Sam pulls it out after tossing aside the yarn whatevers. He places it atop the table, flipping through pages. While I try to read over his shoulder in the sparse light, Dean explores the basement. "Got it," Sam says, having stopped on a picture of a blue fairy looking thing that's flying over a guy that looks like outer space (his skin is black and dotted with white). Between the pages is a folded, white, lined sheet of paper with the same words that Melissa had. "It looks like we're dealing with a Qareen."

Dean says, "Never heard of it-"

I mutter, "I could have told you that."

Sam doesn't hear me as he continues, "It's a creature, corporeal in form. A slave to your commands."

Dean flips on a light on the other side of the tarp that separates the basement. I say, "Kinda like a genie." Melters aren't going to work on it, then. I huff, tucking it into the back of my jeans. I do find a small sticky note on the page, though, 'Victim is seduced and killed by a Quareem. Kill a Quareem by stabbing it in the heart.' Why would anyone put instructions on how to kill their creature inside the spellbook? Like seriously, it's Monster Hunting 101.

"I guess. Here we go," Sam paraphrases, "Someone chants a curse, lays a wet one on you, then the victim is seduced and killed by the Qareen, but instead of taking the form of Barbara Eden, they present themselves as your deepest, darkest desire."

Dean walks into our part of the basement, moving the tarp aside, "Makes sense why the sitter was killed by the husband. The husband by the sitter."

"Yeah. And why Melissa was attacked by Dan," Sam says, "She really loved him." Dean laughs. "What?"

"You know the silver lining about being cursed? I'll finally get some face time with Daisy Duke." Sam and I look at him like 'huh?' "My deepest darkest desire."

I ask, "Seriously?"

"Ever since I was seven," Dean says proudly.

"So Bach not Simpson," Sam clarifies.

Dean scoffs before giving it a second thought, "Eh. Guess I wouldn't say no to either." I roll my eyes at them. Dean sees me and asks, "Alright, how do we kill it?"

"By stabbing it in its heart," I say.

Dean looks at the same picture I had, seeing something I'd missed, "Well given that it has a giant hole in its chest, does it even have a heart?"

"Apparently not in him," Sam sighs, reading off of another sticky note, "The person who holds the Qareen's heart is the one who commands it."

"So Sonja the hairdresser," I say, finally figuring all of this out. No one bothered to explain anything, but apparently, Melissa got upset with her husband and wanted him to love her and not the babysitter. So the white witch - Sonya - gave her a spell that turned out to be a curse. When Melissa kissed her husband, and then the husband (I guess, Dan) kissed the baby sitter- the baby sitter died. And then Dan died. And then the Quareen came after Melissa, but then she kissed Dean. So now it's going to come after Dean in the form of a lady from Dukes of Hazard.

"Alright, let's find us a heart. I'll take upstairs," Sam says.

"Ah," Dean stops us as Sam and I turn to go. Dean holds out his hands almost like he wants to play rock, paper- Holy H-, are they kidding? Sam looks annoyed by it, but puts his hands out, too. Seriously? What, are they children?

They both throw rock, myself leaning against the table in annoyance. However, they both look a little shocked that they tied.

They go again, this time both of them betting scissors. This time, more determined, Dean throws paper while Sam does rock. I lean off, thinking we'll finally get moving, but they're both stunned. Dean like he just won a free pie.

"Whatever. I'm going upstairs," Sam says indifferently. I can tell it bothers him.

"Okay," Dean says, watching us go. I shake my head at them. Sam takes the lead, myself a step behind. I look over my shoulder in time to watch Dean get the biggest smile before shoving aside the tarp as though he's accepting applause. They are so weird.

At the top of the stairs, I tell Sam, "I'll go check on Melissa."

"I'll look for the heart," he says. I nod once and go out the door. Everything is so eerie at night and I overthink my decision to leave Spencer behind again. I wave at Melissa from the door, herself waving back. Spencer moves into the front seat, putting his feet on the dash. He gives a small bark and I nod before going back in.

When I turn, it's just in time to watch a lady with a wicked black hairdo say, "Al-" in a way that makes Sam flip around. "Woothpa," she says, a magical force shoving him into a salon chair. I see the small black box with red stripes in his hand. I can't see what's inside, but I can bet I know what it is. "Al Woothpa," she repeats.

I freeze in my spot. Awe, H-. What did I get into now?

…

As a lady who must be Sonja steps forward to take the box from Sam, I sidestep behind a bookcase. Reaching for my gun that's tucked safely away in my waistband, I curse as she stands right between Sam and I. I've got perfect aim, but there's no guarantee that the bullet won't go through her and into him. Move, lady!

She closes the box, "I'm guessing you're not really FBI. What? A hunter?"

"And you're a witch," Sam says, trying not to let his eyes settle on me for too long. Even if she's not looking at his face. "Hocking death curses as love spells."

"Someone has to punish these men," she walks around his side. I duck back so she can't see me as she comes around, "But you know the only thing worse than a cheating man, is one who gets away with it."

"Wow. You're practically a feminist," Sam says. I roll my eyes. I can hear her walking, but I can't risk moving out. If she's able to get a spell off before I'm able to shoot her, then we're all toast.

"Why hurt Melissa?" Sam asks, stalling for time. He must realize that I can't shoot her if she's in front of him, "She only wanted to save her marriage."

"They all do. Hundreds of heartbroken women come to me, but they never learn. I mean, a month, a year, however long later, they all come back. Same story, different men," she says.

Sam adds, "So you tweaked the curse."

I glance over the side just as she turns. Maybe I can- nope. "Now it not only punishes the cheaters but the foolish women who want them back. Guess I'm just weeding out the idiots," she says, "And you're next."

Crap.

She starts on a spell, raising her hand to point at Sam. Now or never. I take a step to pivot out just as Melissa comes through the door, "Sonja! Stop!" She holds my knife tightly in both hands, aiming it at the witch. Well, this just got interesting. "Please. Enough. It's enough."

Sonja takes a step forward and that's it. I aim my gun, shooting her front as Sam shoots her back. I hadn't even seen him go for his gun. The hairdresser witch falls dead to the floor, a pool of blood spilling from her chest.

Sam tosses the gun aside, taking his pocket knife as he charges the box. I pull Melissa aside and turn her away from the bloody sight on the floor. Also taking my knife back. The stupid lady shouldn't be around blades.

I watch over my shoulder as Sam cuts a line down the heart, the inside glowing blue. He runs to the basement stairs, yelling, "Dean!"

I hear the elder call back, "Yeah!"

I turn to Melissa, "You alright?"

"That was freaking insane," she says.

I shrug my shoulders, "Yeah, but you get used to it." The boys come back up the stairs so I tell her, "Come on. Let's get out of here."

…

After dropping Melissa off at home, the guys drive me to the closest bus stop. I smirk, "Ready to get rid of me, huh?"

"Hey, seriously, thanks for the help back there," Sam says.

I say, "Didn't do much. I only got the shot off cause Melissa came in like a lunatic. I think you even shot Sonja before I did."

"All the same," he says, "It's easier to go into stuff knowing someone's got your back." I nod in agreement, not at all feeling the same way. I prefer to work alone, with Spencer being the exception. Teammates just get in the way and screw everything up.

Dean asks, "So, your friend will probably owe you big, huh?"

"Not really," I say, "I was repaying her for the last time she helped me." Spencer nudges my arm and I say, "She gave me Spencer. Least I could do."

"Gave you Spencer?" Sam asks.

"Long story for another time," I smirk, as Dean pulls up to the station, "Which, I get the feeling I'll get to share someday."

"Yeah, what is this?" Sam asks, "Two team-ups in the same month?"

I say, "Guess we're just destined to keep working together." I glance towards my bag before glancing at the back of Dean's head. No. Now isn't the right time, "Anyway, thanks for the lift. See you around."

"Hey," Dean stops me, turning in his seat a little, "You be careful out there, alright?"

"Always am," I wink, hopping out. Spencer grabs my bag, but I take it from him as we walk towards the building. I hear the rumble as they drive away, only glancing back once, but it's enough. Spencer yaps at me. "We'll see them again. I'll give the letter to him next time. Swear." Spencer rolls his head at me. "Yeah, yeah. Just for that, you don't get pretzels." He growls and I laugh, "I'm just kidding! Of course you get pretzels!" Putting my hand on the door, I ask, "You want cheese, too- hold on." I reach into my pocket for my phone that's started to go off.

The collar ID reads Garth. A man behind me says, "Do you mind?" as I stand in front of the door.

I apologize, stepping aside to answer the call, "Hey, Garth, what's up?"

"Hey, Lex, you anywhere near New York, City?" he asks.

"New York?" I look at the changing itinerary screen through the glass door of the Greyhound station and read off the sign when the next trip over is, "Shouldn't take more than seven or eight hours. Got a case for me?"

"If you're interested," he says, "Where are you?"

"Ohio," I say.

He says, "You know there's an airline that-"

"No," I say fast, "No planes. Bus will be fine. Got an address? Or am I just supposed to travel around New York City for a few days?"

"I got an address," he chuckles, "It's over by the Hudson. There was a mysterious murder on the water. Few of them, actually. They span over several years."

"Can't wait," I smirk.


	3. Episode List and Disclaimer

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own Supernatural or the characters. All stories are separate from the TV show even if they take place during the series timeline. I sometimes use transcripts from crossover episodes, that does not make it mine. This is an AU from my imagination. Thank you._

Episodes Available

**Episode 1: Blood Moon Rising**

_Episode Summary_: Alexandria and her dog, Spencer, investigate a string of murders in a small town. They soon find they're not the only ones working the case. _(Airdate: November 9th, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_

**Episode 2: Love Stinks**

_Episode Summary:_ Alexandra Weather visits Hudson, Ohio as a favor to a friend. Expecting to find a white witch, she's not expecting to come across old friends. Or be almost thrown off a bus. _(Airdate: Will air on November 23, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_

**Episode 3: Come Sail Away**

_Episode Summary: Every seven years, several swimmers are drowned to death. The only thing they have in common is an odd bite mark. Can Alexandra figure out what creature is causing all this carnage before it's too late? Or will she, too, be pulled to the depths?_ _(Airdate: Will air on November 30, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_

**Episode 4: Dream On**

_Episode Summary: _To be announced. _(Airdate: Will air on December 7, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_

**Episode 5: To Be Announced**

_Episode Summary: _To be announced. _(Airdate: Will air on December 14, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_

**Episode 6: To Be Announced**

_Episode Summary: _To be announced. _(Airdate: Will air on December 21, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_

**Episode 7: To Be Announced**

_Episode Summary: _To be announced. _(Airdate: Will air on December 28, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_

**Episode 8: To Be Announced**

_Episode Summary: _To be announced. _(Airdate: Will air on January 4, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_

**Episode 9: To Be Announced**

_Episode Summary: _To be announced. _(Airdate: Will air on January 11, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_

**Episode 10: To Be Announced**

_Episode Summary: _To be announced. _(Airdate: Will air on January 18, 2019. 7 p.m. Central.)_


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